


Battle Worn But Going Home

by GlowingMechanicalHeart



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Male Friendship, Missing Scene, POV Mablung, Post-Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowingMechanicalHeart/pseuds/GlowingMechanicalHeart
Summary: The battle rages, hard and brutal. And it’s going to end badly, Mablung can tell already. Something feels off, like Belegûr is holding back, mocking their armies and their dead. Beleg stands side to side with him, and that is a comforting thought for him.And then it happens, a betrayal from their own side and the battle grows worse.
Relationships: Beleg Cúthalion & Mablung of Doriath
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Doriath Week 2020





	Battle Worn But Going Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day Six of Doriath Week: Beleg & Mablung

The battle rages, hard and brutal. And it’s going to end badly, Mablung can tell already. Something feels off, like Belegûr is holding back, mocking their armies and their dead. Beleg stand side to side with him, and that is a comforting thought for him.

And then it happens, a betrayal from their own side and the battle grows worse.

It is only then, truly, that he and Beleg stands back to back simply trying to survive. Beleg had given him a worried look, he shares the worry, of course, but right now, he must put his thoughts and feelings on ice. Only lets the anger he carries toward Belegûr help to cut down his armies, he will not let anything else distract him. So he lifts his ax and cuts through orcs and betrayers alike. He intents to make sure that he and Beleg return home.

Fingon is killed and he can feel the bubbling of despair, but he grips his ax even tighter and continues fighting. He will not die here, nor will Beleg if he can help it. Azaghal dies and his people carry him out of the battlefield, no one dares disturb them. He has to admit, there’s a great deal of reverence as Azaghal is carried out, amidst the songs of his people. But he has no time to appreciate this naugrim ritual, not when the battle rages on around him.

* * *

One swing of his ax after the other, his enemies fall before him, but it is not enough. Damn Belegûr and his ability to ensure that his armies always stand victorious.

Once the battle ends, both he and Beleg stand on the battlefield, leaning on each other. Tired, battle worn, hungry and dirty, but alive. They get to the tents, Beleg has a cut on his arm that needs tending and he needs to get provisions for their return home. He leaves Beleg at the care of the healer and goes in search of food, he receives lembas and fortified wine, some fruit and dried meat. That should be fine, they can hunt on their way home.

Beleg’s wound is nothing serious, praise the Valar. So, he gets a poultice, stitches and wraps and he’s deemed free to go. Beleg looks at him with tired and sad eyes, he’s sure his eyes match them. There are no words yet, they will come, but not while they are still surrounded by such sorrow and terrible defeat. Elven voices sing in sorrow for the fallen King and kin, sending waves of grief to both their hearts.

They part ways with the Noldor and make their way home slowly, always making sure the other is safe. He has always trusted Beleg to look out for him, in the same way he does for his captain. There’s no need for him to worry if Beleg is with him. But this time they do, the roads are dangerous and they must keep vigil all the way home.

“Unnumbered tears,” Beleg whispers, once they have put a good distance between themselves and the Noldor host, and are making a small camp near a river. They do not risk a fire yet, so they eat the lembas and some dried meat. “That’s what they’re already calling the battle.”

He nods, “I can see why, Fingon and Azaghal dead. Húrin lost to Belegûr. The Noldorin army in tatters, Turgon retreated back to his hidden city. And for what I heard, Maedhros himself nearly fell.”

Beleg’s look of surprise is quite something. “Kinslayer he may be, but at least he is a good and steadfast warrior in his stand against Belegûr. How?”

“Seems like Uldor attacked from the rear. They say that it was Maglor who slayed him himself as thanks.”

Beleg frowns, “Dark are the days that are to come, I fear what Belegûr might yet unleash.”

He shares Beleg’s worry, he lifts his wine skin and takes a large mouthful, drinks it slowly, savoring the burn of the alcohol. “And I share your worry,” he offers the wine to Beleg, who takes it with a grateful smile and sips. “But no more we can do, save watch over our people.”

Beleg’s countenance falls. “Indeed,” he murmurs. “We did what we could here, but now, we must keep watch over Doriath, as we have always done.”

“And to redouble our efforts no doubt,” he counters. “I doubt Belegûr will leave Doriath alone forever.”

Beleg looks up to the skies, the dark is beginning to fall and stars are already peeking through. “Indeed, my heart is troubled by this loss. Truly, Belegûr has outdone himself by swaying some of the second born to his ranks. Our King will not like the news.”

“No,” he agrees. “He will not. But come, you are weary and I can see that your arm still bothers you. Sleep, old friend, I’ll keep watch and wake you as soon as anor rises.”

“Thank you, Mablug. Truly, you are the best of friends to have in these trying times. Rest well.” Beleg grins at him, tired he might be, but Beleg is not one to loose his spirit. Not even Belegûr can take that from his friend, and for that, he is grateful.

He watches as Beleg rests on his back, sword at the ready as his eyes grow vacant. He gives his friend a smile, even if the other can’t see it, Beleg can sleep through most everything in the safety of Menegroth, but he is a light sleeper on the wild, so he simply sits and hums a song he heard Daeron sing not so long ago. Tired as he might be, he knows he will not rest properly until they are safe within the Girdle.

And right now, they are just two weary warriors, on their way home. He hopes that at least, they can arrive home safely. Times will grow darker, his heart tells him so, but he is stubborn in his hope that they might yet know peace and freedom from Belegûr, and for that reason alone, he will continue his fight and watch, his King and Queen, over Doriath, over his friend and his people. Beleg and himself will have quite the story to tell, but right now, he might be tired and battle worn, but they are alive and they are going home.

So long as Mablug, Marchwarden and Captain of Elu Thingol stands, Doriath will stand untouched if he can help it. 


End file.
